


Pre Slash McFly

by natashawitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Time Travel, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 00:23:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natashawitch/pseuds/natashawitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A spell causes Castiel to travel back in time seeking a younger version of Dean to aid him in freeing the present day Winchesters from danger. Set vague Season 8. First Fic, be kind please.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pre Slash McFly

**Author's Note:**

> Not my characters, but I wish they were.  
> Dialogue quotes lifted from episodes.

Dean Winchester was pretty fucking happy with himself. It was day three of rabbit kitchen magic. Dad had seen the full store cupboard of canned goods and declared his boys stocked up before he had vamoosed from their cabin squat to chase some kind of griffin/were-beast through the Appalachian Mountains. While leaving a fourteen year old and a ten year old with a diet of canned beans and canned green peas wasn’t their worst situation ever, it wasn’t a patch on being left in a town where Dean could shoplift. Dad had taken the Impala to his hunt starting point so Dean couldn’t even use his fake driving licence to get supplies. However Dad had left a weapons cache and Dean had shot Mr Bunny Rabbit and a pigeon. Getting Sammy to eat said pigeon and rabbit had been a battle but his little brother had paused his constant tirade about missing school to tell Dean that his roast rabbit and wild onions was pretty damned good. Yesterday Sam had finished the last of the six novels the owner had kept in their holiday retreat, but Dean had used his superior freaking awesome cooking skills to deflect Sammy’s freak out with a casserole of rabbit and beans. Now Sam was outside doing some sort of biology field trip he had found in his school book and Dean had boiled down the carcass of the rabbit for stock with more wild onions, a few bay, a few of the peas from a can and something he was almost sure was lemon thyme. 

There was a strange noise as if a pigeon had flown into the kitchen and when Dean turned around there was an accountant in a trench coat standing looking at him with an intense stare.

“What the fuck!” Dean shouted spilling the cooking salt into his palm and flinging a blast of it at the manifested nerd.

“Hello Dean.” The weirdo intoned calmly in a deep voice.

Dean whirled around tempted to scald the man with his broth but what if it was a man, maybe it was the guy who owned the cabin, but how would he know his name? He settled for lunging at him with the silver knife he had in his pocket. The guy didn’t even try to defend himself, letting Dean slash the back of his hand. He bled but no expression of pain or shock touched the guy’s face, if anything he looked a little sad. 

“Who the hell are you? Why are you in my kitchen?” Dean demanded in his best imitation of Dad’s talking to monsters voice.

“I believe this kitchen is in actuality the property of one Elijah Beresford of Portland Maine. You are Dean Winchester of Lawrence Kansas. I would not be in this kitchen if it was not of grave importance.” The dude’s blue eyes spoke of sincerity but Dean was no civilian push over.

“What are you? Not a ghost or a shifter. Are you a man-witch?” Dean backed up and sideways hoping to glance out the window to check on Sammy.

“I am not a witch,” the accountant sounded insulted, “I am your friend.”

“Yeah right. Pull the other one Annie Wilkes.” 

“I do not understand the reference,” the guy tilted his head and looked as if he was analysing Dean. It made him vaguely uncomfortable in his skin.

“Misery, dude? Are you planning on breaking my legs and trapping me here?”

“That is not my intention. I need your assistance Dean.” 

A beamed in accountant with no sense of humour, peachy, just when he was having a good day.

“Listen to me Hannibal Lector, you and your trench coat and your creepy stare can go pop up in someone else’s cabin. Capese?”

“No that would be counterproductive.” The guy took a step closer and Dean backed up against the sink unit. “I require your help, Dean.”

Dean took a deep breath. The guy had no concept of personal space and he was as old as Dad but there was something stirring in his teenage hormones at being effectively pinned in place. Dean looked at the blue tie knotted backwards, the slightest stubble, the pink lips and the blue eyes that had pinned him there. Dean gulped and prayed that the guy hadn’t noticed his wayward cock twitch. Of course as soon as he had offered the prayer, the dude looked down, so much for divine help. The guy clasped a hand over his left shoulder and apologised stepping back.

“Soooo,” Dean managed once he had his breath back, “You want to make me guess your name and the nature of your game?”

“I am not Lucifer.” The guy said in obvious annoyance.

“Super. Not a movie buff but a Stones fan. How about we move this forward? You tell me your name, what you want, I can refuse and you can skip the fuck back to Narnia.” Dean sighed in frustration.

“I fear that if I divulge that information, I will change the timeline. Already I fear you will not forget me.” The guy looked to the ceiling as if he was the one praying now.

“Fine,” Dean huffed, “Where did you come from?”

“Not where. When. 20 years from now. We are...friends.”

“Marty Mc-fucking-fly. You expect me to believe that. Tell me something to make me believe you.” Dean marched over to the stove and turned off the burner. Sammy was still sketching weeds in his text book.

“I must be circumspect about what I reveal, but I can tell you that your father is chasing an animated gargoyle and he won’t be back for two more days. I can tell you that Sam gave you that amulet the Christmas before last in Nebraska and that last month you got to third base with Melody Lacey in the back of your father’s Impala.”

“Son of a bitch.” 

“You prefer pie to cake. You wanted to be a fireman when you grow up. You hope your Dad will give you the car some day. You like to know where Sam is every second. You have a favourite AC/DC tee. You think Led Zeppelin are the best musicians in history. You have a lock of Sam’s baby hair in your duffel...”

“Stop. Just stop.” Dean threw his hands up. “How do you know these things? Is it a spell?”

“You told me.”

“What?”

“An older version of you told me every one of those things, except for the lock of hair. Sam told me that.”

“When you come from it is 2013. I can’t imagine. Are there men on Mars? Is the president a woman? Did Mulder and Scully ever get it on?”   
Dean sat down at the kitchen table.

Sam came bursting through the door, “Dean! Dean! I found a giant raven’s feather.” 

The boy was brought up short at the sight of the strange man sitting at the kitchen table with his brother. The guy stood up and took the black feather from his hand. “Thank you Sam. I believe that is mine.”

Sam gaped at the stranger while Dean chuckled, “Was that it? Did you come back in time to collect a lost bird part?”

“No Dean. I need you to come with me. I promise to return you safely here. Only moments will pass for Sam before you are back.”

“No freaking way. You must be out of your mind. You still haven’t explained what you want me for except to assist you, and I am going nowhere without Sammy.”

The man sighed. “Do you want Sam to leave us?”

Sam put his hands on his hips and glared, “No way, Dean. I am not going anywhere. What is going on?”

“Sammy, this nerdy dude says he is from 2013 and he needs my help.”

“Cool!” Sam did a pirouette and examined the man’s face, “How small are phones? Is String Theory proven? Are Mulder and Scully married?”

The guy pulled out a slim shiny rectangle like something from The Starship Enterprise and passed it to Sam, who threw himself on the sofa in the lounge area with the item.

“OK Spill.” Dean did his Dad imitation again.

“There was a witch. You and Sam cleared out a coven in Scranton.”

“Okay,” Dean said slowly, “so we are hunting in 2013 and are just down the highway from here. That is twisted.”

“Dean,” Sam called, “It has a touch screen.”

The other two ignored him.

“You checked the motel room for hex bags but not the Impala. There was a witch who was out of town when you dismantled the altar and dealt with the others. You were heading north on I-81 when the curse struck. Sam was driving and he managed to park before he lapsed into unconsciousness. You managed to call me.”

“I called you?” Dean whispered. He wondered why of all the people why this man? Why not Dad or Jim or Bobby? “Sam was driving?”

“I bet I am a better driver than you. Bet I am.” Sam called in.

“Stop ear wigging Sammy.”

“Dean I think he is telling the truth. Our numbers are in his phone with people called Garth, Kevin, Meg, Claire, Benny and Daphne. There are five numbers for you.”

“Sammy shudup.” Dean called back.

“I came as soon as I heard your call, but you were already passed out. I used my interviewing skills to find the remaining witch. When I threatened to smite her she gave up her spell.” The guy sounded too pleased with himself at his success.

“Smite her? Oh. Smiting doesn’t sound like a subtle interviewing technique.” Dean found himself relaxing unconsciously with the dude.

“Dean I did not threaten to smite the witnesses. You would not approve of that method. The witch was using a grimoire based on the original Grimm tales.”

“Dean! Dean!”

“What now Sammy?” Dean barked at the interruption.

“The dude’s name is Cas.”

Cas sucked in a breath and bit his lip.

“There are written messages from you saved on his phone.   
Hey Cas, hope you are ok, please come back, worried about you, come home, Dean   
and Hey Cas, sorry Sam was such an asshat, can you bring a feather with you the spare got used up, kinda miss your angelic butt, Dean. Deeeeeean, You are gay! That is your boyfriend!” Sam sounded inordinately pleased with himself. He leapt from the sofa and actually frigging skipped into the kitchen.

“Hi Cas. I’m Sam, your boyfriend’s brother. If you hurt him I will kill you.”

“Okay, that is enough,” Dean stood up drawing himself up to his full teenage height to look down on his younger brother, “One, I do the protective brother shit, Two, no way you grow up to be a better driver than me, Three, kinda trying to hear about our future selves in mortal peril here, and Four, be nicer to my... uhem... my Cas.”

“Dean?” The man spoke his name in such a way that Dean felt a buzzing inside him.

“Yes Cas?”

“Your brother has made presumptions based on limited evidence. You are fourteen...”

“Good to know I’m not married to a perv.” Dean joked and leaned over to kiss the top of Cas’s head, “I can see my awesome sense of taste remains.”

Cas seemed to have been stunned into silence and assumed a statuesque demeanour while Dean ladelled out three bowls of rabbit broth.

“Dean?” Cas looked at the boy as if he was puzzle, “You are not angered by Sam’s presumption.”

“Eat up, Cas. I make good broth.” Dean grinned.

“He does and he shot the rabbit himself.” Sam chipped in and blew on the spoon to cool his soup.

“I do not require sustenance. The spell can only be broken by imbibing the blood of a family member. I attempted to place a little of each of your blood on the other’s tongue but that did not break the curse.”

“Ewhhww” both Winchesters made squicky noises and fake gagged with their fingers, then realising they were synchronised they laughed and high fived.

Sam leaned forward putting an elbow on the wooden table, “Why’d you have to time travel to get a family member? Where is Dad? I know Dean is gay but I must be thirty, don’t I have a wife and kids? Or am I gay too?”

“I believe the term for what I am avoiding is spoilers. There are reasons why I cannot access other family members. I do apologise for overshooting my landing by about fifteen years. I intended to enlist the aid of Dean soon after we had met.”

“Wowser, we are together five years?” Dean looked at Cas with a disbelieving but tender gaze.

“Dean. Please stop making assumptions. I need blood from a version of you not under the witch’s spell. I will use a drop of your blood to wake Sam and then his to wake my Dean.”

“OK, I’ll do it. But only if you can guarantee you won’t overshoot the return journey. I am not leaving Sammy alone here.”

“I am coming with you.” Sam protested.

“No” Both Dean and Cas said.

Dean rubbed his jaw and stared Sam down, “It is too risky. What if I am trapped in the future, at least you will be here to tell Dad and get him working on getting me back?”

“I would prefer Dean to accompany me.” Cas explained.

“Of course you would. Dean is your boyfriend or wife or something. I’m just the gooseberry.” Sam stomped off into the bedroom.

“Dean,” Cas drew the boy’s attention back to him, “If you insist I will bring Sam with us, but life has been hard on Sam, I don’t want him to meet his future self.”

Dean gulped. He didn’t know if he wanted to meet future Sam and Dean now. “Hard?”

“Your lives have not been easy, and I wouldn’t do this unless there was no other option.” Cas sounded apologetic.

“It’s Okay, Cas. I get it. I mean we are hunters from what you say. Making another assumption, I guess Dad is gone by 2013. I don’t want Sammy to see that, but I can deal.”

Dean tried to look brave as he held out a hand to Cas. The man’s palm was soft as if he didn’t do manual labour, which sort of fitted with his nerdy appearance. Dean tugged him so that he stood up. He wrapped his arms around Cas’s waist and fisted the material at the small of his back. Leaning his head into the trench coat Dean buried his nose in the cloth, “Hey Cas, you’ll watch my back, right?”

“Yes Dean. I’ll watch your back.” Cas intoned as his hand grazed the back of Dean’s head.

“I feel safe here.” Dean whispered low enough that Cas barely heard him. Then he pulled away and walked to the bedroom door. “Sammy, I am going now. I’ll see you in a few minutes, I hope. Don’t blow the house up while I am gone, bitch.”

Sam came running up to the door and flung his arms around Dean’s neck. “I won’t, jerk. You come back Dean. Don’t leave me to explain this...” Sam made a circle with his hand including Cas, “to Dad.”

Dean gave Sammy a squeeze and because it was a last night on earth situation and not a chick flick moment, “Love ya, Sammy.”

“Me too De.” Sam sounded younger and Dean almost changed his mind but Sam said in a stronger tone, “You better go Dean, or future us might be stuck in a Snow White coma forever.”

Dean’s boots weighed down his feet. He paused at the coffee table to pick up his homemade sawn off and walked over to Cas. “So what do we do? Do I need to hold on to you?”

“No” Cas intoned and reached out two fingers pressing them against Dean’s forehead.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Dean opened his eyes. He was in a motel room, somethings never changed. It was a better standard of room than the motels Dad chose. The TV caught his eye, huge and flat and the microwave, small and dial-less. There were two big sleeping guys in flannel and denim laid out on top of each of the queen beds. Their frayed dirt streaked clothes jarred with the crisp white bedclothes with the silky red pillows. The guy on the left bed was a freaking giant. 

Cas moved over to the guy on the right bed and checked his pulse. 

“Cas is that us? Me and Sammy?” Dean asked in a small voice. He looked more closely. Neither guy wore the amulet. One guy had a nasty scar on his upturned palm. He guessed the guy that Cas was touching was older him. He could see the facial resemblance to the one in the mirror now that he stood beside Cas. That meant that Sammy was a sasquatch and badly in need of a haircut.

Future Sam was tossing in his sleep, “Not real,” he called out.

“What is going on Cas?” Dean asked suddenly terrified by the implications of the curse.

“The witches’ spell did not simply send you to sleep. It opened the gateway to the nightmare realm. Hence my urgency regarding your assistance.”

Dean was horrified at the thought of a spell that would trap someone in their nightmares.

“Master, I can do better, please Alastair, let me try again,” Future Dean croaked in a pathetic plea.

“Fuck Cas, what is future me dreaming?” Dean ran over and stroked the side of his own older face, like he did when Sammy had a nightmare.

“Tuesday...pig in a poke...hot sauce...Asia...” Future Sam muttered.

“Strike that, what are we both dreaming?” Dean asked.

Then future him growled and Dean stepped back. Through gritted teeth the sleeping man called “We got to move! The portal's closing! Cas! Damn it! Come on!”

Dean didn’t know what to do. Giant Sam was muttering about stones being real and he was digging into the scar on his hand in his sleep. Amulet-less Dean was brokenly whispering “I can't do it, Cas. It's too big. Alastair was right. I'm not all here. I'm not—I'm not strong enough.”

“Cas? Are these memories? They don’t sound like nightmares. Are future us remembering terrible things that have happened?” Dean moved to sit on the green sofa and hid his eyes with his hands. “I’m glad Sammy, I mean my Sammy isn’t here.”

Future Sam cried the name Jessica in his sleep.

“Can we do this, now Cas?” Dean rolled up his sleeve for Cas to cut him.

Cas produced a wicked looking long sliver-like blade from his trench coat or an alternative reality because where had he been hiding that thing?

“This may sting.” Cas warned as he drew the metal across Dean’s inner arm. Dean winced but kept steady as Cas pulled him over to Sam’s bed. He dabbed a finger in the bright red line of blood and pushed his digit into Sam’s mouth.

“Nothing is happening.” Dean panicked.

“Patience, Dean.” Cas said but they both continued to stare at giant Sammy. “Give your brother time to swallow.”

Moments later, Sam sat up in the bed and took a huge gulp of air, like a man returning from the dead. “Cas, Thank God. Was it the coven? Is Dean OK?” He looked at the other bed, where future Dean was tossing and telling someone that he would never be an angel condom. 

“Still out then?” Sam snorted, “and dreaming of Michael? Did you not get a look in Cas?” 

Dean wondered how many male lovers he was destined to have. Alastair sounded like a dick and what was an angel condom?

Then big Sam noticed him. “Dean? Two Deans? Cas what the fuck? What did you do this time?” Sam sounded angry at Cas, who had just freaking saved him from nightmares. Dean stood in front of his new friend, husband, whatever.

“Sammy, I know you have woken up grumpy,” Dean used his best substitute parent voice, “But you shouldn’t take it out on Cas. He brought me here to wake you up.”

Sam gaped at him, “Uh, Dean what age are you? Where is mini-me?”

“I’m fourteen. Sammy is in the cabin in the Appalachian mountains, probably finishing all the rabbit broth.”

Sam rubbed his eyes, “I remember that. So I’m not still dreaming. This is real?” Sam sounded lost, broken even, as he asked both of them if it was real.

“You are not hallucinating again, Sam.” Cas patted the back of Sam’s hand.

What the hell? What was wrong with grown up Sammy? This was more than a witch’s spell. There was no way his Sammy was going to have the terrible life that this Sam had. Dean would not allow it. He was going to protect Sam, take care of him. It was his job. He was suddenly angry at future Dean, for letting Sammy get hurt.

Future Dean cried out pleading “No, no, no, it's our dad. It's our dad! Come on.”

“I can’t take another moment of this,” Sam declared and stood up. Dean’s eyes were like saucers at the height of him. “What do we have to do to wake him?”

“You need to put a little of your blood in his mouth. Family blood will break the curse.” Cas instructed.

“Oh I see why you fetched him.” Sam huffed as he pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and slit the top of his ring finger. “Shouldn’t you Looper him back before Dean wakes up?”

“It would be wiser to wait until we are sure the curse is broken.” Cas responded but he held out his hand for Dean to hold and the boy grasped it. 

Sam ran his finger along the inside of future Dean’s lip and stood back rocking on his heels.

Future Dean mirrored Sam’s earlier actions with the addition of leaping to his feet brandishing a menacing sigil engraved knife.

“Hello Dean,” Cas said in a tone Dean could only describe as coy.

“What the hell, Cas? Was it the witches? Sonvabitch. Sam you good? Who is that?” Big Dean barked and scanned the room like a battle hardened army veteran and Dean was freaking terrified of his future self. 

Puffing out his chest with all the courage he could muster, Dean walked over to the man and stuck out his hand, “Dean Winchester.”

Big Dean looked at him closely, eyes moving down to the amulet. “Well fuck me. What did you do Cas? Not that I’m a novice in meeting other versions of me. You do realize that Zachariah’s future shot led me to change things.”

“It is fine Dean,” Cas soothed him, “I have restricted young Dean here to the essential data and I don’t believe he will change anything.”  
Dean tightened his jaw at his future boyfriend.

Future Dean saw the expression, “I think you are wrong Cas. I know that look. OK Me, spill, what are you going to change?”

“I heard your sleep talking, you and gigantic Sammy. I’m never gonna date anyone called Alastair or Michael. I wouldn’t take off Sammy’s amulet for anything. You haven’t even kissed Cas for saving your ass. I am going to go back to my brother and I will protect him. I will never let him be hurt like this Sammy. It is my job to take care of Sammy and you have plainly done a poor job of it.”

Big Dean froze at the teenager’s words. 

Dean took the opportunity to go over and pick up Sam’s large hand. He turned it over and blew a boo-boo on the scar, “I’ll stop that from ever happening, promise.”

“I only wish it was that simple, Dean,” Sam sounded tired but he gave a weak smile.

Then Dean threw his arms around Cas’s waist, “Take me home, Cas, please.”

As Cas placed his fingers on his brow, Dean heard his future self say to future Sam, “Damn I was badass.”

Then he was standing in a darkened cabin with his Sammy sleeping peacefully on the sofa. 

He turned to Cas and stood on his tip toes to kiss the man.

“There.” He pronounced. “All better, kiss accomplished.”

“Dean I should...” Cas started.

“Go?” Dean asked.

Cas shook his head. “Make you forget.”

“You can do that? I don’t want to forget. I mean Sam. God Cas, what happened to him? But at least I have you.”

“It is not that simple, Dean. I cannot fill in the details for you. It is vital that you do not remember me. Our future meeting in written in the prophecies. You cannot know me when we meet again.”

Dean nodded, “Prophesized huh? Meant to be? Wouldn’t want to ruin that.” Dean moved in closer and kissed Cas again. “Let me have this Cas? Kiss me back? I will forget in a few minutes, kiss me now.”

Cas tilted his head for Dean and the boy took the kiss pushing his tongue into the angel’s mouth. Cas opened up for him and Dean kitten licked his future lover’s lips, ran the tip along his teeth, pushed further entangling their tongues until Cas kissed him back and joined their lips in union. Teeth and tongue, passionate and desperate they remained together as small moans escaped Cas’s throat and Dean’s stiff cock strained against his denims.

Cas finally pulled back and regretfully said, “It is time.”

Dean wiped a traitorous tear from his face, “I don’t want to forget you, forget our kiss.”

Cas moved over and touched Sam’s sleeping forehead and whispered a few words of Enochian. “Sam no longer remembers my part in today’s events. I want you to know Dean, that through all my existence I will never forget our first kiss.”

As Cas reached for his forehead Dean thought how strange it was that Cas would call that the first kiss for both of them.


End file.
